


Vicissitudes

by idiopathy



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Ignoct Week, M/M, Reincarnation, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-10 02:45:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11682405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idiopathy/pseuds/idiopathy
Summary: This lifetime is only one of many others; just as the dawn will always come, their souls will always find solace in each other.





	Vicissitudes

**Author's Note:**

> spoilers for the main story! thanks for reading :)
> 
>  
> 
> day 3 prompt: reincarnation - _the story is well-known, but ignis, try as he might, cannot recall why he finds the tale of the chosen king to be so achingly familiar. perhaps all it needs is a touch of coincidence._

_In a spectacular burst of magic, the Chosen King purges the land of its blight - exactly as the prophecies had foretold. Every living soul across Eos feels it like a pulse in the air, as the soil and sky rejoice after the centuries-long scourge._

_The three other members of his entourage climb the stairs up the Citadel, their hearts heavy with dread. There is no urgency in their footsteps, only the certainty of what they know they will find._

_The air in the throne room is still buzzing with energy as they open the final set of doors; the acrid smell of ozone is cut through only the unmistakable tang of blood. Prompto breaks the silence first, his voice woven with doubt as he openly mourns the loss of his closest friend. Gladiolus follows suit,  though he is proud that the young prince had finally become the king he was meant to be._

_Ignis says nothing; he can find no words for the deep sorrow he feels for Noctis, a young man who had given so much while asking for so little. Though the light of the rising sun leaves a comforting warmth on his face, there is naught but an emptiness in his chest._

_This is simply the final page in a story penned many eons ago; he has no choice but to reminisce, and bask in the gift given by his selfless king._

 

* * *

 

In this world, in this time, the Astrals and the Starscourge are merely relics of a lost age; magic is simply an element of fantasy and the saga of the King of Light is but a popular children's tale. 

Ignis hears this fable for the first time as a bedtime story, and at the tender age of six he is overcome with a sadness he cannot explain. His mother does not understand why he is crying - neither does he.

There are nights where he dreams of driving a convertible down long, open roads; others where he finds himself pacing through a monumental castle with walls of dark marble and stone. More than once he has woken from a burning, dizzying pain on the left side of his face, as images of fire and guns and terrifying metal men flash before his eyes.

He has no explanation for why the exact same dreams _keep coming back_ , except of course, if he were revisiting a memory. He knows, in the logical side of his mind, that this is impossible, accepting this simply as a question to remain unanswered. This does nothing to stymie his curiosity; he is nothing if not thorough, and he often finds himself at the local bookstore during a regular evening.

One night he's pulling a copy of _Cosmogony_  off the shelf when suddenly -

"I promise that book isn't nearly as interesting as it lets on."

Ignis freezes, and it takes most of his self-control to not whip his head around in surprise. The careless intonation, the informality weaved into every syllable - the voice is exactly as he remembers, though he knows the person who just spoke is a complete stranger.

He clears his throat, careful not to betray his shock. "I suppose the adage remains true for a reason."

"Try this one. I have a feeling you'll find it more useful."

Ignis turns slowly, equal parts terrified and entirely expectant. His gaze drifts up from the proffered book - _Records of a Strategist_ , the title reads - and when he makes eye contact, he's met with a face as familiar as the one in the mirror.  

Feeling his heart drop to his stomach, he finds his hands moving on autopilot. 

"I, um, thank you. I'll be sure to look through it when I can." 

The other man just huffs, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah, well. Enjoy. At least this one's consistent." 

Ignis opens his mouth to speak, but he feels a slew of questions bubble up and die before they reach his throat. He wants to say something,  _anything_ , but he doesn't even know where to begin. Instead, he clamps his mouth shut, and gives a courteous nod. The stranger smiles, and turns to leave before the silence has a chance to become awkward. 

He watches the man's retreating back, almost longingly, the space between them burning with a hundred things left unspoken.

 

 

Ignis doesn't see him again for months.

His dreams, however, sharpen into focus, the images anchored by eyes of liquid sapphire. When the other memories begin to return, they don't rush back like a torrential stream - like relics buried under years of earth, they come together like puzzle pieces, the process slow and methodical. In some, he finds that the spatial conceptions are more nebulous, as if crafted from impressions of sound rather than sight. True to his recollection, the king's fabled adviser had apparently gone blind in a "deal with the devil," as the stories called it.

One thing seems to stand out above all, as the haze begins to clear; what begins as an obligation to the crown gradually becomes something else entirely, though the details of how, or why, or even _when_ are lost to him. The grief he remembers from the night of the ascension is full of bitterness and regret - it feels nothing like the pain of losing a friend.

By the time Ignis runs into the other man again, he has the memories of an entire life he has never lived, woven with vague echoes of agony only afforded by decades of unrequited longing.

He finds him sitting on a park bench on his way home from work one evening - with the way his eyes are closed, Ignis surmises he's probably trying to take a mid-evening nap. Overcome with an unknown urgency, he promptly sits down next to him, having apparently thrown common courtesy out the window. 

"How long have you known?!"

The man in question opens his eyes to look over at him, and though his expression is one of surprise, it relaxes into a smile. 

"So, you remember."

Ignis lets out a sigh. "It honestly feels more like an extremely vivid fever dream, but yes, I suppose so."

The man laughs, and oh, how Ignis has longed to hear that sound again. 

"If it helps at all, I felt the same way."

"...past tense?"

"I don't really have reason not to believe any of it." He leans forward and places his elbows on his knees. He wrings his hands together, clearly more anxious than his previous nonchalance had let on.

Ignis speaks before he can stop himself, quick to cover the beat of silence that follows. "The last king of Lucis, the Chosen King, the True King; he was prophesied to rid Eos of the Starscourge and bring back the light - or so the stories go. It seems they can at least agree on that much."

The other man furrows his eyebrows. "Any grade-schooler would know that." 

"Yes, but I don't recall any of those accounts mentioning you by name, Noct."

There's a shaky inhale, perhaps louder than intended; whatever confidence Noctis had been feigning earlier has apparently crumbled away. He's silent for a spell, but when he finally speaks, his voice is raw, barely a whisper. "You... you really do remember. Ignis - god - you have no idea how much it sucked, wishing for this."

Noctis buries his face in his hands. He lets out a trembling breath, and Ignis feels a painful lump grow in his throat. He's keenly aware that he  _isn't_ the exact same Ignis Scientia who had accompanied the young prince on his fateful journey, but he feels the urge to comfort the young man all the same.  

When the shaking in Noctis' shoulders has ceased, Ignis asks again, quieter this time. "Noct... truly, how long have you known?"

Noctis sits back and quickly rubs at his eyes. He pulls back the right sleeve of his jacket, revealing an intricate webbing of scars up the length of his arm. They aren't particularly dark nor noticeable on their own, but they are expansive, branching out from right above his middle knuckle like arcs of electricity.

"From the Ring of Lucis?" 

A quick nod. "I've had these marks for as long as I can remember," he says, rubbing at his finger, as if the aforementioned ring were still there, "and I pretty much knew the first time I heard the story. Seems like the decade I spent in the Beyond was good for something other than burning out the damn scourge." He scoffs, resentful of the sacrifices expected of the king. Though he'd gracefully made peace with his duties before, this particular Noctis held no such reservations. "The Crystal, the Ring, the phantom arsenal - they were all connected to the Beyond, as it turned out. If you could bend that space to your will, sometimes... your wishes were heard."

Ignis says nothing, the gears turning in his head as he digests this. He can recall the sensation of willing daggers into existence, as fluid as speech; perhaps this explains why he, too, was given a glimpse into his past life.

The silence is cut by Noctis' sudden laugh. "Sorry, I probably sound like a lunatic, don't I? This is weird, all of this is weird. I mean, neither of us know each other in this life. " 

The other man looks thoughtful for a few seconds before he speaks. "That's... certainly true. And I'll admit I'm not nearly as familiar as you are with my... history, but of one thing I'm absolutely certain. Noctis Lucis Caelum was immeasurably important to me in a past life, and I think a certain strategist left some important things unsaid."

The expression on Noctis' face is hopeful, though it quickly turns dark. "Don't make this a joke, Ignis."

"The stories remember us as a prince and chamberlain, both duty-bound by an ancient prophecy - yet here we are, two strangers, somehow in the same place at the same time, _again_. I do believe we were given a second chance, as contrived as it sounds."

Noctis holds his breath.

"I want to give this another try, Noct." Ignis says, looking the other man straight in the eye, and it feels like a confession sorely overdue.

" _Anothe_ \- you mean, the entire time - y-you waited all those years, and still never said anything in the end?"

"What occasion did I have? As I recall we were busy trying to end the apocalypse." 

Ripping his gaze away, Noctis abruptly stands. His voice is quiet when he speaks. "When I handed you that book back then... I was only hoping you'd remember. I didn't want to ask for too much."

"Perhaps the universe is feeling generous this time around."

When he looks back, Ignis is gazing up at him expectantly.

"I'm not the same person."

"Neither am I."

Noctis hesitates, but he feels a glimmer of hope. "You really do want this?" he asks, reaching out for the other man.

Ignis smiles and grabs the extended hand, interlocking their fingers together. As if remnants of ancient magic still lingered within them, the first touch is electrifying.

"Let's make sure this was worth the wait, shall we?"

**Author's Note:**

> in case anyone is wondering, noctis is sleeping on a park bench because his older model wearing his casual outfit genuinely looks like a homeless man??? that's honestly the entire reason
> 
> confession: i played the entire game in japanese, and while i did go back and watch a playthrough in english, i have a slight bias for the personalities they have in the original (don't get me wrong, i fully appreciate that the english version is a full localization and not a direct translation). not that i'm claiming to have successfully written them in character anyway (lol), but ignis and noctis are each almost entirely different people between the two versions, so that might explain some of the characterization inconsistencies. sorry about that :(
> 
> funny thing is, i've been sitting on this account for YEARS and here i am back on ao3 for the first time in ages for this ship, which has apparently taken control of my life choices. cool.


End file.
